Belonging

Belonging

Seth Godin has a new course out. This one is about podcasting. He announced it this morning and I already have the signup page in front of me, with the cursor hovering over the submit button.

A month ago, it was the Bootstrapper’s workshop. The month before that, the Marketing Seminar. Last year, the altMBA (which I actually took.)

What is it about me and Seth’s projects that makes me want to drop all my work and join up?

It’s not the information, although it’s relevant and helpful.

Often it’s not even filling a knowledge gap. I mean, I just shipped my 29th podcast this morning. And I’m already bootstrapping three projects. I know how to do this.

But Seth is the master of connection. I’m desperate to meet the other people who sign up for the session. To see what they are making. To help them succeed. To be part of a larger cohort of bootstrappers, of marketers, of podcasters.

Really, to be part of his cohort of bootstrappers, marketers and podcasters.

Because what Seth has built over the years is a reputation of doing things a certain way. With purpose, clarity and generosity. I want to build the same reputation, as do the others he attracts.

People like us. That’s what we all want. And Seth has brought us together once again.

But I’m not signing up today.

As much as I want to, yearn to, I’m not going to do it.

Because it’s my lizard brain, my Resistance, that is screaming at me to press the sign up button this morning. It knows that if I sign up, I’ll be ‘all in’ for the next six weeks, spending hour after hour in the new group, with my new friends, helping them go forward. And I’ll spend six weeks describing, in great detail, how I want to move forward too.

All of that feels so, so, good. I want it so badly. But I know that it will delay me from actually moving forward.

I’ll be back in Dream mode instead of Ship mode.

So I have to say no. I must, respectfully, decline.

This is soooo difficult to do, but it’s the right call for now.

Using The Gift

I haven’t had the most productive week.  Well, I got things done, but not the important thing.

This was the week to send out invitations for my next project, but to do that meant standing up and sharing my intentions with people I admire.  To say “This is what I’m doing.”

Instead, I hid.  Let the week slide by.  At one point, I even told myself that my friends would refuse my invitation.

Cindy and I talked about this and she reminded me that every day is a gift.

I’m in this unique position where (for a while anyway) I can spend my time working on projects that I chose, rather than projects that others choose for me.

So a day not spent moving my projects forward is a waste of my gift.

We all have this gift.  A day, a week, or maybe only an hour.

Don’t waste the gift.  The world needs what you’re making.  Please use the time you have.

 

The End Of The Week

I’ve been deep in a post altMBA funk this week. I’ve got my project plan and my task list but I’m just not working at it enough to ship on time.

When confronted by being stuck like this, especially when it’s self inflicted, my first reaction is that my deadlines are soft. Or at least out too far.

One of the best things about the altMBA format is that there is something due every single day. So there’s nowhere to hide. No way to get around to it later. You gotta ship, period.

Some of us, me included, like to set weekly goals. I’ll ship by the end of the week.

But Monday quickly turns into Tuesday turns into Wednesday. Laundry is done, the house is (relatively) clean, groceries purchased, side projects tended to.

Then as the sun sets on Thursday night, you realize you haven’t really got going on The Big Project. The one with the deadline.

That’s when the downward spiral picks up steam. The funk gets funkier. Not good.

No, better to have a daily deadline and mean it. Promise yourself you’ll pay the neighbour (the one you don’t like that much) $20 if you don’t ship tonight. And tomorrow. And the next day.

Get a stack of twenties and put them on your desk as a reminder.

Then get to work. We need you to ship.

Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash

The Secret Path

I’ve been fixating on the work of Gord Downie for a month now, since his untimely passing in October. Yesterday I started watching the CBC broadcast of The Silent Path, the concert / album / film / graphic novel about a boy who ran away from a residential school in 1966 and died trying to walk the 600km home.

Well, I had to stop after two songs. I was crying too much. Listening to the songs performed live, with the film playing in the background was heartbreaking.

I’m going to watch the whole thing this weekend. It’s important that we all do, to help us understand what went on and start to comprehend the magnitude of the reconciliation that’s required. As Gord himself says in this moving speech, it took seven generations to get to this point and will take seven generations to fully heal. But it’s time to start.

I can’t recommend this concert enough.

PS.  Some more links:

The Secret Path album on Spotify

Gord’s last album, Introduce Yerself announced just weeks prior to his death, on Spotify

 

Photo via CBC Docs

Don’t Ask, Don’t Get

Yesterday I wrote about the new Bread tome called Modernist Bread and asked if anyone had any pull at the public library.  (Well, or with Santa Claus too.)

I sent a similar question to my Backyard Bakery buddies and it turns out that one of the Bread Buddies does in fact work at the library and close to the circulation department no less!

So the RPL is ordering a set of books for their collection.  Yippee!

No doubt they’ll be reference material, for in library use only, but I’ll gladly spend a few afternoons checking them out.  And with their excellent province wide circulation system, my baking friends in Saskatoon will be able to use them too.

So the moral of the story is to actually ask for what you want, out loud.  Good things can happen.

And if you bake, make sure your librarians have access to your bread.

Now, if I could only do that with my podcast!